abraxaslogs | [ CATCH-ALL ] waking from the dream

All right is still a spot better than terrible.

[He'll take it. After all, he's not been following the events in Thorne much beyond check-ins with Yennefer, so -- he can only hope it is not the memories still lingering with him. (Or was it the nightmares? Did Rhy suffer them, too?)

Ah.

Jaskier looks away at the mention of them, a hollow pain in his side that persists even into the Horizon.] Yes. I hope as well.

[Jaskier gives him a kiss on the cheek, leading him towards the tree, the small box in his hands.] Come in, come in! I can't wait to see -- don't you dare call it frivolous. There is not a gift in the world well-intentioned that is frivolous.

[Just inside, Bleobheris has changed its shape to form a large open room just inside, with a carved wooden table and several cushioned chairs. Already a pair of wine glasses awaits them (as if Jaskier hasn't seen the bottle of wine he's brought along as well), a plate of sectioned orange slices and herbed goat cheese on a wooden plate beside them. Jaskier opens the box as he takes a seat, going quiet and still as he lifts the small wooden bird inside.

He smiles, cradling it in both hands. Moglad closes the door quietly behind them.] See? Such perfection can not be called frivolous. You made this, didn't you?

[ After all that uncertainty, Jaskier greets him just as warmly as ever.

After a quick hug (relief surging), Rhy follows him to the table, and watches him open the gift with a bit lingering anxiety. The reaction, however, is well worth the time spent both making and worrying over the silly little bird.

He smiles slowly, uncharacteristically shyly. Nods once. ]

I like to whittle, sometimes. A hobby I've had since I was young.

[ It's not even one he's particularly good at, just something to pass the time, but he's of passable skill. It is, at least, recognizably a bird. And he didn't even use Horizon magic. ]

Really? That's -- well, if I'm honest, not something I would've pegged down as a skill of yours. [But he loves it. It is truly rare that anyone has crafted something personally for him... and with its special meaning now, with how his chaos has formed itself into birds.]

But now I think of it, it suits you. You have a creative streak. I sensed it even when we met.

[Skill is not important in such matters, he thinks. A overly salted bread is still a bread made with himself in mind. Honestly, that's enough.

Jaskier carefully rolls the bird in his hands, his fingers following the grooves of its feathers. The only downside being he wishes he could carry the trinket out of the Horizon, where he could store it in his bags or show Mog. Mog would probably love it.]

What else have you whittled? Show me! I'd love to see.

What? Too simple a hobby for royalty?

[ Rhy teases, but there might be a little bit of something else in there, fishing for praise. He receives it, and more interest too, and beams.

In the Horizon, it's easy. Though he wonders if he should tell Jaskier he really did make that by hand-- or if that would be kind of silly to say on top of everything else. He can tell; that's what Jaskier said. Rhy decides not to push the point. ]

I can show you some that I remember. You can keep them if you want.

[ Rhy concentrates, and with a twist of his hand puts his palm flat out, and upon it appears a crude little horse. ]

I was so proud of this little fellow.

[ He laughs, handing it over. ]

Kept him on a shelf in my room. I must have been--

[ A beat, a moment of hesitation. Something remembered, and pushed away. ]

Twelve, when I made it.

[ Thirteen, when he'd been kidnapped. A story for another day. Perhaps. ]

Much better than my first attempt...

[ Another carving appears. Of questionable shape. ]

[Jaskier smiles.] Hardly. I know plenty of the hobbies of royals, but... truthfully, I imagined you more a painter. I know you're very talented at gentle stroking with your hand, after all.

[He laughs. He can't help himself. Company, a gift -- what more does a man really need some days?]

Oh, the horse! Geralt would love it. His are much more... well, square.

[Geralt is not, however, putting much time into them. More like a distraction, he thinks. Something to occupy his hands.]

Twelve? This is remarkably good for twelve! As far as I know about whittling, at any rate. [However, the next offering... Jaskier politely purses his lips.] Oh. What a lovely... rab... bit?

[It has ears?]

[ Rhy laughs. ]

I was a child! Yes, it's supposed to be a rabbit.

[ ~~It's supposed to be a pikachu according to the link but don't worry about it.~~

He waves the 'rabbit' away, making it disappear into wherever it came from in the Horizon with a flick of his wrist. ]

Oh, your friend Geralt whittles too? [ He doesn't know that much about Geralt, though Jaskier's mentioned him before with the sort of familiar ease people have for their closest friends or family. ]

I can make him one. He likes horses? Though if he already makes them himself...

[ It's not like it's hard, in here. Rhy shrugs. ]

[Hah! Nailed it.]

I said it was lovely! I wasn't lying. We all start somewhere. Believe me, you would not want to hear some of my earliest songs. I didn't realize at the time how wretched they were.

[No, he was quite convinced he was destined already to be the greatest bard on the Continent. And he was, obviously, but he would never have been the greatest in those years. Not until he gained enough experience.

Jaskier nods, gesturing towards the stairwell that leads up the trunk of Bleobheris.] I could show you. He has a little workshop up there. Something to distract him, I think. [Jaskier smiles, lighting up.] He hardly gets gifts at all! I'm sure he'd -- well, he'll be mostly confused, but it's a kind gesture, either way. I'll be sure to show him if you do.

Now I really want to hear them!

[ Rhy laughs, following the gesture up the stairs. He's never been up there. ]

I'd like to see it! And I'll make one for him soon. I can leave it here.

[ The implication being he wants to make it by hand, like Jaskier's, not the sort of instant Horizon-work the demonstrations just now had been, or he'd do it right away. ]

He hardly gets gifts? That's so sad!

Well, he's a bit pathetic overall, really. Which is why I decided to follow him with all the music-making business.

[Which he's glad now he's told Rhy about; some of the stories of their travels together, and of course, their first meeting (one of his favorite stories; how many can say they were personally gifted a lute by the king of the elves?) Now he has some background to begin to understand Geralt.

Jaskier leads him down a hallway made from a large hollowed out branch towards the workshop: a small carved out hollow with shelves holding several strange, crooked carvings, an array of carving tools, and fresh bits of soft wood that replenished themselves as they were used. There were also a few bottles of wood stain and paint, if Geralt ever got particularly fiesty.] He's not exactly easy to gift to. And where we come from, he's hardly liked by most. An unfortunate side effect of being a Witcher. It's rather nice for him, I imagine. Here. There's no preconceptions of who he is simply because of what he is -- besides a rather tight-lipped, rude man.

[ Rhy laughs a little, as he follows. 'A bit pathetic' Jaskier says, but it sounds so very fond.

He's told Rhy stories of some of their travels, mostly vague things about how his friend fights beasts Rhy's never heard of, monsters that sound like fairy-tales.

Rhy walks over to the shelves, fingertips trailing along the wood, and picks up one of the blocks. He lifts it, as if to say Can I take this? but what he actually says is: ]

It sounds like a weight off his shoulders. It certainly has been for Kell.

Where we're from, he is always marked as different. Other. Preconceptions, as you say.

Kell is the same way?

[Jaskier's gaze lifts in curiousity, along with his brows. Certainly he can admit he does not truly understand this relationship between Kell and Rhy -- it would be impossible, he thinks, to understand without being in a situation where he was forced to share his life so intimately -- but he does wonder how close Kell could possibly be treated in relation to a Witcher. Is he, too, some sort of monster to the people?]

Because of who he is? Or is he... not entirely human? I have a vast well of experience with that particular fear. We humans, I'm afraid, do love to fear what is not also human.

He is human.

[ It comes out a little defensive, though he knows Jaskier doesn't mean anything by it. He seems to understand, in fact.

Rhy sits down at the work bench, grabbing one of the small, sharp knives nearby. He addresses the block of wood, slowly. ]

Still, he is different enough I think some people forget that all too easily. Or they decide it does not matter, because he is also more than that.

You see, Kell is what is known as an Antari. One blessed by Magic, the strongest kind of magician -- and the rarest. He is the only one left in all the worlds. [ A beat. Rhy seems to realize something, and corrects himself very softly. The knife cuts into the wood, one small chip at a time. ] Him and one other.

Antari can wield all elements, and command blood magic. They can do things nobody else can. They can cross worlds.

[ He looks up at last at Jaskier, and gestures vaguely at his face (by necessity, with the lumpy block of wood). ]

Antari are marked. They're always born with one black eye.

[ Completely black, no white, no iris, all shiny obsidian. Jaskier has seen it. Perhaps has been unnerved by it, or maybe it didn't really make much of an impression. Rhy doesn't ask him. ]

As you might imagine, kind of difficult to hide.

[Normally Jaskier would apologize for the perceived sleight, but Rhy seems to understand he did not mean it negatively. Jaskier himself has spent nights with those who are inhuman and enjoyed himself thoroughly. He has nothing against them.

Only the ones who have tried to eat him. A rare occurrence nowadays.

Jaskier pulls up a stool to sit beside Rhy, watching him begin to work. The smell of fresh wood, not only of Bleobheris itself but the carvings, has always been somewhat relaxing to the bard.

It reminds him of the forests they used to travel through so often. That he has not seen for years now.

As he listens, he nods. Though this Antari sounds only like a particularly skilled sorceress from his Continent (a certain one comes to mind, regardless of her temporary magic loss), he says nothing. Blood magic sounds rather ominous, and it's not something he thinks sorcerers dabble in. Not the sort of sorcerer that one wants to dabble with.

At last, Jaskier gives a little snort.] Funny how eyes seem to be the tell. They're the same in Geralt's case. What marks him as different. [He plucks up a curl of fallen wood, pulling it apart with his fingers.] As you said. Difficult to hide.

[Though he almost wonders if people would know anyway. Witcher, Antari. People always find what makes others different.] You know, with you so closely connected, I would almost expect you to share the eye. It would be poetic! [He pauses.] To be fair, I don't understand how it all works.

I'd like to meet your friend Geralt someday. Bribe him with this horse.

[ Rhy suggests, with a faint smile, looking up at Jaskier for a moment before his gaze goes back to his work. ]

Oh, we're not actually related. [ Has he mentioned that? He probably has. Rhy shakes his head. ] But you meant--

Yes, well. We're not connected anymore. And it doesn't work that way. [ It shouldn't have worked any way because what Kell did was impossible, but Rhy won't get into that again. ]

The eye is a mark of the Magic. That's the color of pure Magic.

I... don't understand it well either. Not much is known about Antari these days. They're nearly vanished from the worlds.

Oh, I meant -- that bond.

[Luckily, he's rather noticed they are not related. Or they would certainly be distantly so. He just likes the poetic touch of men, bonded by magic and brotherhood, sharing something as intimate as an eye color... to be physically marked with an otherwise invisible bond!

He may already be writing a new song in his mind.]

Ah. My apologies. [In case he made any error in his assumptions. Magic can be a very touchy topic with some.] Luckily, Antari or not, you were still blessed with very beautiful eyes. Have I mentioned that before? I'm afraid my flirtations may be getting repetitive.

Nothing to apologize for, darling.

[ A smile creeps back onto Rhy's face, not quite as obviously flirty as usual but certainly warm, as he lifts his eyes to Jaskier's. ]

They're really nothing unusual.

[ To him, considering his mother and father both have a similar eye color, and it's not like they're the only ones. But Rhy has noticed other Summoned commenting on them. ]

But I do love to hear you say it.

[ A beat. He considers, biting his lip. Letting go of the other subjects and latching on to lighthearted amusement again. ]

If I did agree your flirtations are becoming repetitive, how would you rectify that?

[It feels a bit like slipping into an old, beloved robe. Jaskier prefers it, honestly. Though the memories they share still weigh heavily in his head, and will for some time, he likes to see Rhy like this. Smiling, with his eyes bright. He cannot say for sure if it's forced or not, but --

The way Jaskier reaches out for him, hands falling to Rhy's hips, placing them close together -- none of that is forced.]

My mouth is skilled at a good many things beyond mere words, if my flirtations have become too boring on their own. [He smiles, kissing a cheek. This. This is easy.] If my delightful friend would appreciate a distraction. Bleobheris is host to many, many fine rooms. With many fine beds.

Is that so?

[ Difficult to tell which part he means. All of it, maybe. The rooms. Jaskier's mouth. Rhy leans into the touch, the kiss, the affection and the warmth of it, with a sigh that is equal parts pleasure and relief.

He sets the knife and the bloc of wood aside for now. A project he intends to pick up later.

If Jaskier is keen to offer him a distraction now, he'll be more than happy to oblige them both. ]

I am always appreciative of sweet distraction with even sweeter company. Why don't you show me some of those beds? We can try them out in turn.

[ CATCH-ALL ] waking from the dream

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should we start wrapping up?

sounds good!